


She Wolf

by Dearly_Divided



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood, Dark, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Murder, None of these characters are okay, Nothing explicit, Shock, Sort of? - Freeform, Unhealthy Relationships, Will someone please hug my deputy?, implied - Freeform, possessive Jacob Seed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 15:53:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19254352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dearly_Divided/pseuds/Dearly_Divided
Summary: It wasn’t a clean kill, Rook had been unarmed, had to make do with her hands.She’d clawed out his throat.There was a voice, somewhere deep inside of her consciousness that begged her to get up and run. If they found her like this, Jacob would kill her himself, and it wouldn’t be quick or painless. He’d make her suffer.





	She Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> I have no explanation or excuse for what the fuck this is, but enjoy, sinners.

Rook was kneeling on the ground, her wide eyes fixed on the body of the Chosen lying dead at her feet. She was covered in blood - his not hers. It wasn’t a clean kill, Rook had been unarmed, had to make do with her hands.

She’d clawed out his throat.

There was a voice, somewhere deep inside of her consciousness that begged her to get up and run. If they found her like this Jacob would kill her himself, and it certainly wouldn’t be quick or painless. He’d make her suffer – the Chosen was one of his favourites. Bloodthirsty and fucking evil, she’d known that long before he’d come at her. Jacob seemed to like that in his soldiers.

She’d been a good little soldier for him, and he’d rewarded her accordingly, extending her metaphorical leash, giving her small comforts so long as she obeyed his orders. But whether she was in his good graces or not, Jacob had killed other prisoners for less, and she somehow doubted that Joseph’s standing order to keep her alive would make much of a difference anymore.

This was betrayal.

Treason.

She was a fox in the henhouse, and she’d be put down like one, too.

And yet she couldn’t find the strength to move. She knew it was shock that kept her there, waiting to be discovered. Shock from the brutality of her own hands, shock from the attack that preceded it. She’d never killed a man quite so violently before. She’d never felt bloodlust like that before, either.

She shouldn’t have been surprised when it was Staci who found her, no doubt sent by Jacob himself to see where she was when she failed to turn up to his training sessions. He was by her side in an instant, glancing in horror between her and the glassy eyed, very dead Chosen. He noted everything, the blood that dripped from her hands and face, the hollowness in her eyes, her ripped shirt and the exposed bra underneath. Even with his shattered mind, he could put two and two together.

He kept saying words, reassurances maybe, but Rook couldn’t hear them. Vaguely she registered Jacob’s name, but otherwise it was white noise. It didn’t matter now.

“He’s going to kill me for this,” she murmured quietly.

She’d fought so hard to survive everything they’d thrown at her, the Bliss, John’s confession, the trials. She’d fought with every fibre of her being to keep going, even when she was starving and exhausted and on the brink of losing her shit. Every sleepless night, every wound she inflicted and received, every death she was responsible for (on both sides), all of it was meaningless, because she was going to die a traitor’s death.

She didn’t move, not even when Staci gripped her hands and tried to tug her to her feet, hissing quietly for her to flee,  _quickly,_  before the guards came back.

Even if she had, it was too late, she could hear the clamouring of the approaching Chosen, and she didn’t have to look up to know that Jacob was with them.

Like Staci, his piercing blue eyes analysed the scene before him - the scratches on Rook’s neck, the busted buckle on her jeans, the ripening bruise on her cheek. He glanced at the dead man, one of his best, lying in a pool of his own blood, his throat garishly mutilated by Rook’s own hand. It’s grisly, but no worse than some of the atrocities he’d seen (and caused) before.

“Get up.”

An order, not a suggestion, and yet Rook still couldn’t find the willpower to obey, or even try and defend herself. It wouldn’t make a difference one way or the other, so why make it easy for him?

When he moved towards her, Rook was expecting a slap, but instead his hands snuck underneath her legs and behind her back, lifting her near catatonic form against his chest. It certainly wasn’t the bullet to the brain she was prepared for, but she knew Jacob well enough to know that he was kindest before he was cruel.

“Clean this shit up,” he growled to his gathered men, and no one spoke another word as he marched back towards the Vet Centre with Rook in his arms and Staci trailing like a lost puppy behind him.

He didn’t take her down into the basement, nor to one of the many, many rooms he used for his indoctrination. No, he took her into  _his_  room – part office part bedroom, kicking open the door to the attached bathroom and depositing her onto counter next to the sink, Staci stationed at the doorway ensuring they wouldn’t be disturbed.

She looked a mess, her clothes torn and muddy, her face streaked and splattered with blood, hands quite literally covered in red. He didn’t seem to care about that as he boxed her in, standing far too close as he always did, his own shirt and jacket filthy from carrying her. His eyes trailed across the exposed skin of her chest, but he made no move to try and preserve her modesty. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it all before.

The tension in the room was palpable, but Rook was sure as hell not going to be the one to break it. She didn’t flinch under his gaze, she wouldn’t show weakness, not now, not to him.

“I thought we’d come to an understanding, pup,” he said after a beat of silence. “I thought you understood your place here.” His eyes narrowed a fraction, “With me.”

Rook didn’t say anything to that. What was the point? It was her word against his – no, not even that. Her word against a dead man’s, who just so happened to be one of Jacob’s favoured.

Jacob reached out to grip her chin, tilting her bloody face up to meet his intense stare. “Wanna tell me what possessed you to rip out his throat in broad daylight, honey?”

His fingers tightened the longer she remained silent, until finally, she relented, glaring up at him. “Will it make a difference?”

The corner of his lip quirked up into a half smirk but there was a glint in his eyes that spoke volumes about the danger lurking just beneath the surface. Wolves didn’t get angry, but they could tear a person apart all the same.

“Depends on what you say,” he replied with a shrug, as if this wasn’t murder and retribution they were discussing. Nevertheless, his grip on her jaw loosened and Rook breathed a little easier.

She swallowed, and told him the truth, “He attacked me, I defended myself.” Her voice was calm and level, emotionless. She wouldn’t share her terror with him, the unrelenting panic that had welled up in her as that piece of shit put his hands where they didn’t belong.

Jacob sighed wearily, “Yeah, thought as much. You put up a damned good fight, pup, I’ll give you that much. A clean kill, relatively speaking,” he chuckled. “I’m  _almost_  proud.”

Oh, how she wished his words didn’t sting.

The back of his knuckles brushed against her cheek softly, and Rook fought the urge to lean into the comforting touch. “But you know there are rules, don’tcha, pup? And when those rules are broken, an example must be made.” His thumb traced along her bottom lip. Rook bit back a sigh of her own and nodded, her eyes fluttering shut in acceptance.

“And I gotta say, ripping a man’s throat out with your bare hands and leaving him to choke on his own blood, that’s one hell of an example,” he said with a low whistle.

Rook’s eyes shot open to find Jacob staring down at her, hunger and something far, far more primal swirling in those stormy blue eyes of his. Her heart skipped a beat, her stomach twisting in a knot, she had to have misunderstood him. He wasn’t… no. But-

A slow smile spread across his scarred face at her confusion, it wasn’t a kind smile but a wolfish grin that made her shiver for all the wrong reasons.

Before she had a chance to speak, his large hands seized her face, entirely unconcerned with the blood that still clung to her skin, and yanked her into a savage kiss. There was nothing gentle about the way his lips moved against hers. It was almost violent in its intensity, he kissed to claim, to mark, and Rook let him.

When he broke away for air, he kept her close, licking the blood from his lips with a feral glint in his eyes.

“You’re mine, pup. No one touches you but me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it, let me know with some kudos and/or comments. Also feel free to come say hi on tumblr - Seedlingsinner :)


End file.
